Slowly, but firmly, covering her lips with mine.
I’m not asking whether she will accompany me. I’m persuading. I find that people have a hard time saying no to me.
I don’t know what brought her here.
I don’t know why she’s hurting so much.
Earlier while I sat with my friend, Diego, dreading every minute of the gala because networking and room working aren’t my thing, my eyes swept the room and I noticed her.
Like I said, I am not often intrigued. But when I am, my attention zeros in like a laser. And if a girl is witty enough, sassy enough, sexy enough to keep me locked, that’s it.
I’m not forcing her to do anything. If she asked me to leave, I’d escort her to the door.
But she hasn’t asked to leave.
She hasn’t moved.
That tells me she feels the same thick tension in the room as I do.
I break eye contact after exactly ten seconds and lean back in my chair again. I sip my drink patiently.
I already know her answer.
I can feel it with each blink.
With the way she bites her lip again.
The way her eyes sweep longingly around the room.
She wants to be someone else for a night.
She looks back at me. The top of her breasts, exposed in the low-cut, drink-stained red dress she’s wearing, are rising and falling with a quickened breath.
Before her lips even part, I have my answer.
“Yes,” she answers, and I take another sip of my drink, hiding my smile behind the glass.
Chapter 3
Ellie
“Where are you? Jesus, Ellie, I thought you were kidnapped. Not that it would be a bad thing to be kidnapped by a man like that. I mean, most villains are arguably attractive, right?” Rachel is rambling when I call her from the bougie little bathroom tucked away in the hidden speakeasy of the hotel.
“I wasn’t kidnapped,” I assure her as I pull my now dry, but still definitely stained dress off. “He wanted to make sure I was okay after the whole Dylan fiasco and then asked if I would…accompany him…to a party on the rooftop.” I bite my tongue and do a little shoulder shimmy, knowing full well that my sister is about to lose her fucking mind.
“On the rooftop?” She echoes.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Of the Phoenix…”
“Yes.”
“Celebrities get to go on the rooftop of the Phoenix,” she says, and I can’t hide my smile anymore.
“I know.”
“So, like…who is this masked man? He was giving Phantom vibes when he walked up. And you are Christine. Oh, my god! He’s not actually Gerard Butler, is he!?”
